Know Enough to Clap

February 1

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands, but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?  Will my face display tell tale signs without whispering a word of it to my mind?  Will I whistle a happy tune therefore revealing my inner state?  If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?  Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion condemn me to remedial society?  Is there any other society?  If I become well enough to reflexively feel and exhibit my mood will I graduate to the advanced class or be forever alone no longer having a place amid the emotional head bangers, hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?  Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation or confusion with a crowd?  Could I know?  Should I know?  Would I know?  Who knows?

Iron your will

*

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.
No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly
In the end, if you don't land, it's a fall
And if you do, a flight.

How we begin seems of ultimate importance
But is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.
The most promising of starts can be sucked ground ward,
Compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through lack of humility.

Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal
Are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.
Willingness is my aileron
It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain.

It smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face
And willingness brings the ground up to meet me.
All I have to do is be willing
And stick out my feet.

You are reading selections from More Sober on the Way to Sane and Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

The Difference

February 2

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.  No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly, in the end, if you don’t land it, it’s a fall and if you do, a flight.  How we begin seems of ultimate importance but is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.  The most promising of starts can be sucked groundward, compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through a lack of humility.  Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.  Willingness is my aileron.  It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain, smoothes  the gusts of life which forever blow in my face, and willingness brings the ground up to meet me.  All I have to do is be willing and stick out my feet.

Use all your words.

*

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands,

but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?

Will my face display telltale signs

without whispering a word of it to my mind?

Will I whistle a happy tune

therefore revealing my inner state?

If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?

Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion

condemn me to remedial society?

Is there any other society?

If I become well enough to reflexively feel

and exhibit my mood will I graduate

to the advanced class or be forever alone

No longer having a place

amid the emotional head bangers,

hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?

Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation

or confusion with a crowd?

Could I know?  Should I know?  Would I know?

Who knows?

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Like an Elf in an Empty Tree

April 17

Like an Elf Working in an Empty Tree

The chairs in the loft are empty, but I still hear the choir sing.  The bottle though it’s empty, still sometimes calls my name.  Though front pocket is empty and there is rolled up empty sleeve, still the nicotine haunts my dreams. On this empty road I travel, I still long for company.  The stillness is not all that’s empty, but I run to fill that spot.  Chaos is like a tapeworm it eats me from inside, but in the meantime I still believe it’s filling me. 

Curve around what is sharp on your tongue

*

HOW THINGS SEEM

Not everyone who pushes me down is my enemy

Not everyone who pulls me up is my friend

I have been seduced by the closeness of people

Who used me as their shield

When I have been held in a place of honor

The  point man of life

I forgot that made me the replacement target

For the one who stood behind me

I have been offended as I was thrown to the ground

The hands that shoved me I saw as my rejecters

I was spared the tragedy and peril of the thing which flew by my ear

Thanks only to the grace of a thrust in the right direction

Accurate appraisal is my weakness

Seeing thing for what they are is hard

Things are rarely how they seem

Know Enough to Clap

February 1

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands, but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?  Will my face display tell tale signs without whispering a word of it to my mind?  Will I whistle a happy tune therefore revealing my inner state?  If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?  Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion condemn me to remedial society?  Is there any other society?  If I become well enough to reflexively feel and exhibit my mood will I graduate to the advanced class or be forever alone no longer having a place amid the emotional head bangers, hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?  Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation or confusion with a crowd?  Could I know?  Should I know?  Would I know?  Who knows?

Iron your will

*

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing.
No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly
In the end, if you don't land, it's a fall
And if you do, a flight.

How we begin seems of ultimate importance
But is seen as a farce in the face of ruin.
The most promising of starts can be sucked ground ward,
Compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through lack of humility.

Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal
Are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat.
Willingness is my aileron
It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain.

It smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face
And willingness brings the ground up to meet me.
All I have to do is be willing
And stick out my feet.

The Difference

February 2

THE DIFFERENCE

Falling and flying are the same, save the landing. No matter what you do in the air, how well or how poorly, in the end, if you don’t land it, it’s a fall and if you do, a flight. How we begin seems of ultimate importance but is seen as a farce in the face of ruin. The most promising of starts can be sucked groundward, compass and instrumentation rendered useless, through a lack of humility. Piteous starts, starts without plan or goal are viewed as triumphs when safety has been captured from defeat. Willingness is my aileron. It contributes to my lift in ways I cannot explain, smoothes the gusts of life which forever blow in my face, and willingness brings the ground up to meet me. All I have to do is be willing and stick out my feet.

Use all your words.

*

Know Enough to Clap

If I know I’m happy I can clap my hands,

but if I’m happy and I don’t know it, what then?

Will my face display telltale signs

without whispering a word of it to my mind?

Will I whistle a happy tune

therefore revealing my inner state?

If I can’t demonstrate my reality does it cease to exist?

Does my retarded ability to reflect my emotion

condemn me to remedial society?

Is there any other society?

If I become well enough to reflexively feel

and exhibit my mood will I graduate

to the advanced class or be forever alone

No longer having a place

amid the emotional head bangers,

hair twirlers and cobweb pickers?

Is it a choice of knowing happiness in isolation

or confusion with a crowd?

Could I know? Should I know? Would I know?

Who knows?

Flight 548

December 11

Flight 548

What a happy flight, wing to wing, smiles, good cheer, the air is kind, sweet, dry, easy to breathe. I am so blessed. I fly to destiny watching the traveling baby circus play around me. Giggles and drool surround me, infuse me with glee. People wander the aisle looking like well loved characters from long forgotten books and we soar. Time does not pass any more quickly this way, but it is similar to time in heaven rather than time spent in hell.

Mix jelly with joy

*

RETRO ANTICIPATION AND SUNSHINE

The night after a victory I fret about the blocks.
Will my stance be right?
Will I leave clearly?

I have been first through the tape
I have won the race
But yet I worry how I will start.

Had I anticipated a win
I might have handled the accolades better.

Apprehension has a long half-life
And feeds through the night
On my gizzards and my dreams.

Failure gives homework,
There are rewrites and type-O’s
But checkmate leaves an empty board
And hands to shake.

The long ride home is filled with
Recriminating thoughts of luck and fortune.
By the time I arrive home
The win is devalued and no longer mine.

I must pry misgivings from the winners circle
And enjoy these moments in the sun
They are just as real as any others.